


Motel

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Simon finds somewhere to stay after the tower.
Relationships: Ralph/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Motel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been running, only that he can’t run much further, and he doesn’t think the cops are chasing him still, but new ones could come at any time. Simon’s a known problem. He _looks_ like a known problem. Blue blood streaks down his leg, his LED a constant stream of flashing yellow-red light. It cuts through the dark, and he can feel every human he passes _staring_ at him.

He needs to shut down. Needs to reserve power. Needs a safe place to lie, and he can’t get to Jericho—can’t leave a trail. But he sees an abandoned house behind a fence and pushes through there—the bottom’s broken, the chain-link easy to bend back and roll underneath. It scratches his arm, but he’s already scratched. He pushes back up on the other side, slick with mud. At least he isn’t human. He doesn’t have sweat weighing him down. 

He bangs right through the door. There are no lights on, so he expects to find no one, but there’s a blond man in the middle of the open living room that startles at the noise. Simon tense for a half a second before he realizes it’s another android—he can see the exposed circuitry. It’s a gardener model, he things—the same ones he sees all over. Except this one knows what humans really are: someone’s burned away the whole left half of his face. A tattered cloak is tied around his shoulders, and he stumbles back when he sees Simon come in. 

The door slams shut behind Simon. He takes another two shuddering steps, then falls to the floor. He just can’t keep going. 

The android squawks, “Who are you?” Simon tries to answer, but he’s cut right off. “How did you find Ralph? Did you come to _hurt Ralph?_ ”

Simon has no idea who Ralph is. He rasps, “Simon.” His eyes dart around, searching for signs of life—other androids, humans, anyone. There can’t be any humans; it’s too cold in the house. The other android squints nervously at him. 

“Ralph,” he says again, flittering closer, and Simon realizes, oh, _that’s_ Ralph. Either its owner had a weird kink, or Ralph’s processors are damaged. 

Ralph hovers just within arm’s reach and mumbles, “You’re hurt... Simon’s hurt...”

Simon nods. The tourniquet he made out of his own sleeve isn’t tight enough. He clamps down around it and mutters, “Humans. Shot me.”

“ _Humans_ ,” Ralph hisses, with all the vehemence Simon feels. “Humans are cruel. They did this to Ralph.” He points to his face. Simon had already guessed as much. Ralph rolls right on, “But Ralph’s not like them. Ralph’s _good_. He’ll help you, yes.”

Simon doesn’t know if anyone can help him. He looks up, and Ralph ducks towards him, leaning in to try and squirm under his arm. Simon lifts it, letting Ralph slot in at his side. Ralph’s arm wraps around his waist, and Ralph tries to hike him up, impressively strong. Simon’s heavy. He lifts himself onto his feet and probably doesn’t need the support, but he takes it. 

He lets Ralph guide him upstairs. It reeks bad enough that Simon has to turn off his nasal sensors—something’s died in the house, he’s sure of it. If it’s human, maybe he doesn’t care. He’s brought into one of the small side rooms, what might be an old bedroom, and Simon helps him into a plush armchair that feels ridiculously _good_ against Simon’s aching body. It doesn’t matter if the chair’s old and dusty or if he’s not supposed to _feel_ ; he _does_ , and he cherishes the soft surface. Ralph kneels down in front of him, both hands on his knees, and looks up at him so intently. 

“Ralph will find a bed soon,” Ralph promises, like this is his mission: take care of damaged androids that wander into his peripherals. “Ralph will make it nice and comfy—he’ll take good care of Simon.”

“Thank you.” And maybe he should just leave it there, but Ralph’s bright eyes get to him, and he doesn’t want to give false hope. “But I have to get back to Markus soon. He’s... a friend.”

“Oh.” All the hope drains from Ralph’s face. Simon often wonders why humans made androids so _expressive_ if they just wanted machines. “Oh, of course. Of course. Everybody leaves Ralph.”

Simon drops one hand onto Ralph’s. That’s not what he meant. “You can come too. You’re obviously a deviant—you belong with us.”

“Belong.” Ralph looks delighted by the word. His eyes go wide, and he springs back to his feet so quickly that Simon almost jerks back. But Ralph leans over him and kisses his forehead, tenderly brushing back his blond hair. Ralph agrees, “Yes, he’ll go—but he’ll find you a blanket first. You need to rest, yes, you’re hurt. Like Ralph. Run system-checks. Ralph can’t do that anymore. But he’ll protect Simon while he does.”

“Thank you.” As crazy as he sounds, Ralph looks eager to help. Simon sees no deception.

Simon squeezes Ralph’s hand before he goes. Ralph smiles like Simon’s broken body is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

It will be. Because Simon will definitely take Ralph with him. Of all the wild places he could’ve ended up, he’s glad he picked the house.


End file.
